My brother was four-years older, already on the edge of escape: anger and a bullet proof vest his only companions. When he was younger, he thought he was Geronimo and wore a tattered headdress (bought from some roadside souvenir stand) … Continue reading →

He is the captain of shipwrecks, a brutal youth who can’t read a map to save his life. He digs for buried treasure in all the wrong places. He sails through the staggering hills of the Pacific Ocean believing that … Continue reading →

My mother only took photographs of sadness. The Crown box camera clicked and fluttered; the wide-eyed shutter collapsed like a hesitant flower with withering petals. The camera looked like a hearse and the images were minor funerals; the death of … Continue reading →

I was on the edge of the mapped earth, where I rode the waves of anguish and lash, bandied about the suffering crush of the water’s cruel intent to drown. The gulls mad dash, lurch and startle, made the suffering … Continue reading →

Her mother had episodes of grandiosity and forced Maria to wear expensive dresses that were too big so that she could not go outside and play with the other children. There was never a lemonade stand and rarely were there … Continue reading →

She sleeps with her weary ghosts too tired to make them believe that there is a better place for haunting, a place beyond the immeasurable sleepy self where dark dreams conspire to pull them all beneath the surface where life … Continue reading →

The prophet is handing out poems to the dead hoping to inspire the next great resurrection. The dead are showing no interest and the poems lie scattered in the graveyard like torn leaves. He’s always been known for putting band … Continue reading →